


Make Sense Of It All

by flippednique



Series: Zrelost [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Confusion, Depression, Emotions, End game OtaYuri I swear, Everything is happening for a reason, Growing Up, Instagram, Just wait until the rest of the gang show up, Lev is named after our Russian HQ baby, M/M, Meltdown, Mila is a gem, More angst, Please do not hate on Mila, They all have issues tbh, Three years into the anime, Unexpected friendships, Viktuuri Parents, Yuri does not know how to deal with this, Yuri is but a child, Yuri is eighteen, Yuri's backstory, all will be revealed, but also lots of fun times, did i mention angst??, drama everywhere, finding yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9249836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippednique/pseuds/flippednique
Summary: Relationships are confusing as hell. Viktor and Yuuri are about to adopt a baby, everyone is moving on with their lives. Otabek and Mila are dating.Alternatively titled: Yuri! deals with Angst!





	1. Advise

"What should we have for dinner?"

"If someone says _katsudon,_ I'm leaving." Yuri looked up from where he was browsing the TV channels, hoping to pass the time between cooking and eating. He looked quite content to simply lay there on the couch with his shoes off, and his entire body curled up like a cat's.

The cook of the house, the other Yuuri, took no offense and hummed thoughtfully as he moved from the living room to the dining room then finally into the kitchen. He seemed to walk to a tune playing in his head, following steps and pushing through a sequence that involved even a spin or two. The only reason he made it to the kitchen unscathed was out of muscle memory, remembering every floor board and every small table between here and there.

The sound of him opening cabinets, still moving to that beat of his was muted by the distance, though Yuuri's voice carried out easily. "What about something exotic then? Something Thai? Or is that too common in this house now?"

"I'll eat anything you make." Viktor promised lazily, though he had an odd look on his face as he joined Yuri on his channel surfing. It wasn't like he could see any of the shows on it, the younger Russian seemed to have a one-man quest to destroy all the buttons on the remote.

Yuri rolled his eyes at Viktor as he recalled the one time a disastrous pot pie had been made, where the other Yuuri had accidentally produced a dessert and not a main dish. He scoffed as he drawled, "Ain't that the sad, sad truth?" before kicking out with his left leg and grinning when it connected.

Viktor made no indication that he'd gotten a foot to the side and simply raised both eyebrows at Yuri, as if to taunt him into trying to kick just a little harder. Make him feel it. _Make him feel it and make it hurt._

The younger Russian was ready to oblige, happy even, as he rose up in order to do so. He wondered if the sudden competitive air in the room had been palpable that it sent Yuuri back into the living room, carrying a small poodle in his arms. The newest member of the family, three month old Ryoutan.

"He was feeling a little lonely in the kitchen." Yuuri gently deposited him on the couch, between Viktor and Yuri, then returned to the kitchen to get back to whatever it was he was doing in there (making something delicious but Yuri would never say that out loud).

Viktor sat up, almost as soon as Ryoutan was placed down on the couch and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to the mound of brown curls, sighing wistfully. "There, there. Daddy's here."

Yuri wanted to ignore that, the sighing. A sigh from Viktor either meant an incredible sob story (which would probably be dramatized to the point of unbelievable) or one absurdly hellish request. He had just gotten back from ice-skating practice where Yakov, Lilia, and Viktor used the _fan-fucking-tastic power of three_ to run him into the ground-er-ice. He was not in the mood to play therapist to Viktor right now. Or anyone really. He didn't even have his degree yet.

Viktor gave another weary sigh. Longer and even more pointed, clearly asking for attention.

On one hand... a sulking Viktor was obviously the greater evil. Yuri dropped the remote and watched as it fell to the floor, thumping against hardwood before resolutely twisting in place to see Viktor clearly. "What?"

"I miss Makkachin." was Viktor's immediate reply. His eyes were lowered slightly as he cuddled Ryoutan as if he were seeing something altogether. His lips trembled as he took in a shaky breath. Here it was... the perfect picture of absolute heartbreak.

On any other person, Yuri would have laughed at that look and demand that they get over whatever the hell it was bothering them already. But this was not just anybody. Yuri had known Viktor since he had been skating in the junior leagues. He was eighteen now, and half of who he was and he was achieved, he owed this man. Viktor, after many months of- well yeah, you could probably call it- "coaching", had an interesting way of getting his lessons through to him.

In Russia, thankfully, he did not have any temples or waterfalls to send Yuri to in order to get his points across. That didn't mean Viktor didn't take every opportunity to get Yuri out of the rink, and into the outside world.

 _"I had to stay inside my own world for a really long time. It took a very drunk pole dancer to get me out and I just want to make it easier for you."_ That was lesson thirteen, which Viktor whispered into his ear hotly, breath stinking from vodka and voice high as they celebrated his actual and final retirement after winning gold two more times, losing once to his then-fiance-now-husband.

Yuri would never forget that, or forget Viktor's good intentions. He kept them in mind whenever the older man did things, stupid and irritating things, that didn't make sense to him then but would make sense some day. Or so he hoped.

"Makkachin is in doggy heaven, eating premium dog food shaped like bones, and chasing his tail and all the other dog stuff that he likes to do." Yuri tried to imagine what that looked like but found it hard. He truly preferred cats more.

Viktor seemed to have no trouble seeing that at all, his eyes watering slightly, a bittersweet smile finding its way to his lips. "I hope someone ties his ears back when he's eating. They always get in the way."

"I'm sure dog-Jesus won't forget." Yuri promised, trying to sound sincere but coming off as sarcastic. He chose to ignore that and sat up properly, letting his head hang over the back of the couch.

A short laugh bubbled from Viktor's lips though it sounded almost painfully like a soft sob. He reached a hand out, careful to tuck Ryoutan in his other arm, and ruffled Yuri's blond hair. "I knew you could be nice sometimes. It's getting so long now."

"Yeah." Yuri agreed, with which part he didn't really care to think of as he swept a long blond lock behind his ear. It was a bother now that it was nearly past his chest to have it fall all over his face. He pulled the rest back after a second of contemplation into a bun, using his ever trusty black ribbon-garter-thing (whatever they're called). He hadn't ever had the need to search for them to buy them. Why would he when he never ran out? Yuuko, mad woman, gave him one each time they bumped into each other, which now that the triplets were old enough to ride planes without causing too much trouble, happened often.

Viktor gave another thoughtful sigh and pet Ryoutan's snoozing form. "He looks exactly like Makkachin sometimes. It makes my heart hurt a little."

"They all look the same to me." Yuri grumbled, flinging his arm over his eyes and blocking out the light. He wanted to sleep, but he was too hungry to settle down. He wondered if Yuuri was done cooking. It'd been long enough. He'd suffered enough dealing with an emotional Viktor, right? He deserved food.

  
"Yuri," another sigh. Perhaps Viktor would finally tell him what was bothering him. "I want a baby."

Slowly, just in case he was dealing with an actual alien here, Yuri lowered his arm and titled his head, fixing Viktor with a one-eyed glare, choosing to reserve the double version later if the idiot continued to not make sense. "Why in God's good name are you telling me? Are you so old you can't even keep track of which Yuri you _married_?"

The very thought sent shivers through his body.

And Viktor had the nerve to laugh at him, perhaps the old man really was going crazy.

Yuri made to get to his feet. He needed... distance, water, _Jesus_... anything but this.

Viktor shot off the couch and latched onto his waist, successfully tripping him and sending him to the ground.

Russia's Yankee sputtered angrily on the floor before Viktor managed to slap a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and pleading. "Don't go to Yuuri!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Yuri yelled, or tried at least. It was very hard to speak when you had several pounds of Russian on top of you- and no, unlike the Japanese Yuuri he did _not enjoy that at all,_ thank you very much!

Viktor made him promise not to yell anymore if he took his hand away before doing so, and making sure to get off him too. "Yuuri doesn't know, but I've already asked Yakov to get in touch with adoption agencies. If everything works out well, we might have to move to America. Permanently."

Yuri's eyes fell into a squint. "Why are you telling me?"

"Because I can't very well leave our first child caught unawares!" Viktor wagged a finger in the air. "Now that you're all grown up, Yuuri needs someone else to look after. I don't count because I'm his husband. I look after him."

Yuri's squint turned into a glare. "I am not your child."

"Of course you are," Viktor pat his head and got up, placing his hands on his hips. "Am I to assume that I have your blessing?"

"It's not like you need it. You'd ask him even if I told you you guys aren't ready." Yuri stayed where he was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. It almost immediately turned into Viktor's worried face.

"Do you think we aren't? I'm not exactly getting younger over here, I'm turning thirty-one next month and I want to have children while I still have hair." Viktor's rambling was growing a lot more painful to listen to and it looked like the other man was ready to go on a tirade if Yuri didn't do anything to stop him.

The younger Russian raised a hand, effectively shutting Viktor up and said with as much conviction as he could muster given that he was so tired of the situation (not that he meant a single word any less). "You and the piggy will make good parents, any child would be lucky to have you. Any agency would be stupid to reject you."

Yuri, for the second time that night, threw his arm over his eyes as he was sure Viktor was now grinning with the watt of a thousand suns. "Can we go eat now?"

"Da!" Viktor tugged on his arm and got him back to his feet before he flounced (not really) his way to the kitchen, where the other Yuuri had his stupid **_'Kiss-the-Cook!'_** apron and a wooden spatula in his hand.

Yuri followed and sat on his chair, the one on the left facing the veranda. It had a tiny cat bed beside it for when he brought Lev with him, which was rare but he appreciated the gesture still. He resolved to keep his quiet, even as he had to suffer through another night of many nights, watching Viktor and the other Yuuri just act... happily married. Which they were so Yuri couldn't say anything about that. He felt a little more better when there was food on the table and Yuuri put out some freshly squeezed orange juice- which were a hundred times better than those juice boxes you got in the supermarket.

For all that he complained, Yuri loved nights like this. After skating, he had somewhere to come home to and there would be food and warmth and laughter. Gone were the days that he had to sleep without eating just because he was too tired to make anything for himself, Grandpa had a busier schedule then, needing to work twice as hard to keep Yuri in skating practice and Misha, his little sister, still had to go to school. It wasn't until Yuri started placing medals and climbing the podium did he have a more... normal life at home. It was the same time his life on the ice turned weird.

Enter the other Yuuri, who was now staring at him curiously, a pair of chopsticks in his hands. Tch, the man would eat soup with that if he could.

Yuri swallowed his mouthful of rice. "What?"

"You seem... lost in thought." Yuuri's lips pursed slightly, his head tilting to the left- a very Yuuri gesture that happened when he wasn't sure how to proceed.

Yuri took pity on him and threw out the most randome question he could think of. "How can you deal with Viktor everyday?"

Yuuri's eyes widened for a second before he laughed, patting his husband's shoulder in consolation. "He's actually very low maintenance. Just make sure to win a few gold medals now and again. Or, uh five times in a row. He likes to decorate the Christmas tree with them, even though neither of us really celebrate Christmas."

Viktor smiled, pressing a kiss to Yuuri's cheek as he reminded him that, "Your silver medals made it to the tree last year _luchik_."

"Oh right," Yuuri asked lightly, humoring him. "How could I ever forget?"

Yuri was silent at the exchange, and he was silent even when the couple started to clear up and Viktor told them to go to the living room and put a movie on, he'd be done with the dishes real quick.

"What should we watch?" Yuuri wondered as he scanned the many rows of DVDs on the shelves to his left.

Yuri ignored that question, choosing to ask, "What makes you stay?"

"Hmm?" Yuuri glanced at him, but kept on casually fingering the cases, knowing that this was not the time to give Yuri his full attention lest he change his mind and skip the conversation.

"With Viktor, even when he gets so... insufferable. What makes you stay?"

"I love him." Was Yuuri's simple answer. "I can't... explain it anyway else. I wouldn't know what to do if Viktor wasn't himself. I'm sure you'd freak out about it too."

"But what is love?" Yuri grumbled.

"It's different for everyone." Yuuri told him, plucking a case of the shelf and waving it around. "In the mood for some ninjas?"

"Do you miss home that much?" Yuri snapped before falling face first into the couch and lazily waving a hand. "This better be the part where that fish-ball guy finally kicks some ass."

"Ah, it's actually fishcake... and I think it's this one." Yuuri settled on the couch beside him, getting comfortable with Ryoutan who had stayed there the whole time since dinner. The movie was half-way through when Viktor made it back to them, settling into Yuuri's side and pulling him close. All three fell into a lulling silence, the only sounds were flying star blades and ninja attacks, an explosion here and there. Much later, Viktor takes off Yuuri's glasses and presses a kiss to his forehead, running pale and long fingers through dark tresses as the Japanese man succumbed to sleep.

"Yuri,"

"Hmmm?" Yuri too was playing with the sandman's touch, ready to give in. Today had been a really long day. He was ready to forget all the toe loops, jumps, flips, and spins he had had to do in order to appease the terrible trio.

Viktor looked at him with an intensity that Yuri could not place, not with this sleepy haze. "Perhaps one day you will know what it is like to love someone more than anything else in the world. You and Otabek both, so young..."

He fell asleep before he could make much more of it. His last thoughts were _Beka? Why'd he get into this?_

* * *

 When Yuri woke up in the morning, he was in his bedroom- yes, the second guestroom in Viktor and Yuuri's house that they kept open for him whenever he decided their place would be the best place to crash. He didn't have skating practice today so he thought he'd head home. Lev probably missed him. He didn't bother to wake the sleeping couple, instead leaving a note on the fridge and running the coffee machine for Viktor when he woke up, making a pot of green tea for the other Yuuri.

He decided to jog home, greeting the dawning sun with a lazy one-two-three-four as he made his way through the sidewalk and turned left into his street. When he made it to his apartment complex, he went a little faster, wanting to shower and get back into his own bed.

His roommate got to him before he could though and Otabek had breakfast going; food, Yuri's only other weakness besides a big bed.

"Morning," Otabek was busy flipping hash-browns to try and get it crispy on both sides. He had a particular way with food, always so concentrated. Like his skating. No wonder both always came out wonderfully.

Yuri went straight for the fridge and brought several other things out and placed it on their table. He and Otabek decided to share an apartment when Yakov took the latter under his wing. The company had been helpful as he eased into the fold of great Russian ice skaters and even now when Yuri could afford and legally own his own place, he was much happier to be with Otabek. They'd grown so close over the years. Yakov thought they were maybe a little too close and often made them train on separate days to keep them concentrated.

Otabek must have skating practice in an hour or two, he was already dressed and geared to go.

Yuri looked at the single plate setting and frowned, "Are you not eating with me?"

"I'm running a little late." Otabek said but he raised a cup of coffee he must have had somewhere near him. "I have enough time to finish this. How was practice yesterday?"

"Hell. Absolute fucking hell." Yuri grumbled as he started eating. Yum. "Viktor wanted to see if my stamina improved any, he's been wanting another Yuri vs Yuuri. As if the coming dance off this Christmas isn't enough. I'll show him and beat that ninja-loving piggy!"

"You and I both know that you call him nice things in your head. When will you admit it?" Otabek wondered.

"Never. If it's happening in my head then it doesn't count." Yuri grabbed the carton of milk and poured some for himself. He eyed Otabek's mug with distrust. "Please tell me that that is at least hot chocolate."

"Ah, it's coffee." Otabek drained his mug and placed it on the sink. "Those of us who are older need it."

"Please, you are not that old." Yuri leaned back into his seat. "You don't even have a girlfriend!"

The Kazakh paused where he was wrapping his scarf around his neck. "I already have my hands full with just you."

"I can take care of myself." Yuri said, rolling his eyes. "Why does everyone seem to have the idea that I need to be taken cared of?"

"I have no idea." Otabek finished with his coat, tugging the collar up and grabbing his skating bag. "There's some pasta in the oven, heat it without blowing up the house, okay?"

"You do too much for me." Yuri waved at him as he go his car keys then made to leave. He paused as, for some absurd reason, Viktor's words came back to him from last night. "Maybe you should put yourself out there and get a girlfriend or something. You're starting to make me feel a little guilty."

Otabek paused by the door for a second, turning to him for just a quick look. "Would that make you happy?"

Yuri reached for the TV remote on the other side of the table and put something on, he waved a distracted hand at Otabek when he landed on the sports channel, eyes glued to the screen. "I don't know, I guess? It would make sense right? You're twenty-two years old... anyways, if you wanna make it to twenty-three you better get going or else Yakov's going to skin you alive."

Otabek nodded and grabbed his helmet, making his way out the door. "I'll be home tonight with take-out. Something Asian?"

"Davai!" Yuri called as the Kazakh left, and he managed to catch a small smile on Otabek's face before the door closed behind him. Yuri wasn't sure what to make of that smile on Otabek's face. It looked... a little sad for some reason. Oh well, he'd ask later. He finished up breakfast and washed whatever it was Otabek left in the sink, turned the TV off because he'd seen JJ perform one too many times for his liking before finally going into his room and collapsing on his bed. Lev was immediately on him, meowing and settling himself on his chest.

Yuri snuggled into his silky fur and slept soundly. It was good to be home.

* * *

"Oh Yuuri!" Phichit was older than Yuri, but younger than Yuri. He was an incredible bridge between them, crossing between the old-fashioned Katsuki and trendy-teenage Plisetsky. Yuri liked the Thai skater a lot, since it meant Yuuri would go out and Yuri could spend time with Viktor and the rest of Team Russia. It was healthy for both Nikiforov-Katsuki husbands to have other friends (no matter that they seemed to revolve in the exact same circles). Yuri didn't like him very much though when he kept interrupting practice like this.

"Phichit-kun!" Yuuri however seemed to appreciate the break as he grinned at the camera, panting as he straightened up from where he'd been doubled over, trying to recover his breath after Viktor asked (demanded) that he practice his quad flips. Which was ridiculous since Yuuri was amazing at them already.

Yuri skated around the ice, trying to give the chatting friends as much privacy as he could, trying to practice the new choreography that Lilia and Yakov wanted for him that involved a hell of a lot of more ballet elements. Even at eighteen, he was still quite capable of pulling off a rather feminine persona on the ice, his height was still also coming up short compared to the rest of the skaters. He was still waiting for his damn growth spurt. It couldn't come fast enough.

The other Yuuri wasn't in competition anymore, but he liked to get out on the ice when he could. He was considering a coaching job, for little kids starting out. He did not have as much moxie as Viktor to go out and chase after some talented and ditsy figure skater who came in last place. They're all very sure that Viktor would not approve of that, though. It would be positively criminal. They'd have to have Yuuri win another dozen gold medals for Viktor to even think of calming down.

Much like the scream Yuuri gave off. Criminal.

Yuri skated back, just in time to catch the flying (and newly bought) iPhone 7 attempting to beat Yuri's recently coveted world record in jump height, catching a glimpse of Phichit's stunned and flushed face. He moved it to face him once it was settled in his palm. "Oi. What the hell? Why is he yelling like that?"

"Ahh! Yurio!" Phichit waved at him, his eyes crinkling shut. "How have you been?"

"Spiffy." Yuri snapped, but nodded warmly at him. "Please tell me what you did."

"I didn't do anything!" Phichit promised.

Yuri wasn't ready when Yuuri came barreling into his side, grasping the phone and nearly yelling at Phichit's image. "What do you mean you just felt like talking about children? Who did you get pregnant Phichit-kun? What did your mother say? I have told you time and time again to be more responsible!"

"But I didn't get anyone pregnant, Yuuri! I swear it!" Phichit's pout was bordering endearing, his cheeks still a nice blush as he pointed a finger at Yuuri. "Have a little more faith in me! I don't even have a girlfriend."

"Then why the sudden interest?!" Yuuri cried, looking ready to fling the phone away. "Phichit, what aren't you telling me?"

Phichit's lips pursed tightly together, his eyes narrowing as if he had had something to say and he was dying to let it out.

Yuri sighed, kicked at his toepick and watched it scuff at the ice. Viktor was an absolute coward. He gave it just maybe ten more seconds before Phichit lost it and told Yuuri the truth... eight... nine... ten...

"Viktor wants to adopt kids with you!"

_Bingo!_

Yuri snickered and draped an arm over Yuuri's shoulders. "You suck at keeping secrets!"

"Yuuri pressured it out of me! He can be so scary!" Phichit sobbed, a disgusting sound so fake it would have made babies cry, his face then gradually got closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing into a soft glare. "What are you waiting for, Yuuri? Go find Viktor and tell him yes!"

Yuuri fumbled with his phone for a second, almost dropping it as Phichit began yelling at him in Thai before he booked it out of the rink and into the locker rooms. That left Yuri alone on the ice, hands still on his hips as he stared at the spot the other Yuuri had just been standing on.

Viktor would probably be at home, or maybe walking Ryoutan, either way Yuuri seemed to have an amazing homing beacon on Viktor and could even find the Russian in a crowded British retail store on Boxing Day (they vowed to never visit England during the holidays ever again).

This was the start of another adventure for them. Yuri traced lazy loops on the ice, a small smile gracing his face. They deserved this and more. Viktor and Yuuri... were good people.

When Yuri had his fill of the ice, especially since his technical coach-companion bailed on him, he made his way out of the rink and grabbed his water bottle, sipping on it as he scrolled through social media because Viktor must have made a post right about now. It was a minute after clicking on Instagram that he was almost choked half to death by a mouthful that went down the wrong pipe.

-

**Mila Babicheva posted a new picture on Instagram**

_I'm ready @OAltin see you at eight! ♡♡♡♡♡_

❤ popovichgeorgi, phichit+chu and **21.047 others**

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**ALane**  The ship has sailed guys! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

 **cafepas-tah** WHAT?! BUT I THOUGHT--

-

Yuri dropped his water bottle.

_When... how... did that happen?_


	2. Sinking

**Viktor Nikiforov posted a new picture on  Instagram**

_Did you guys know that Viktor means "a winner" and Nikiforov means "son of a winner" while Katsuki can be read as "born to win" and Yuuri as "courage to win"?_

_We were always born to make history @katsukidon!_

_Now... what other names mean victory?_

❤ christophe-gc, phichit+chu and **21.047 others**

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**bokchon** Is that a baby book?!

 **nyanpie**  I AM RUSSIAN AND CAN READ RUSSIAN SO DA THAT IS A BABY BOOK!

 **memelord** Nikolia means victory. Name him that, if it's a girl name her Nicole.

 **phichit+chu** When are we coming over to celebrate this @katsukidon??

 **katsukidon** I'll get back to you Phichit-kun, maybe get in touch with everybody else so we can find a week that works well for everyone?

 **viktuuri4ly** **f  **OHMEINGOTT ITS KATSUKI YUURI HI I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I WISH YOU'D COME BACK AND SKATE!

-

"Idiots." Yuri had known looking through the other Yuuri's phone would be a bad idea, but the blasted thing kept going 'bing!' every three seconds since Viktor made the post an hour ago. He was a breath away from throwing it against the wall but two things were stopping him; one, the poor thing had already been enough what with the many times the other Yuuri managed to drop it (and since he's been excited and anxious and an annoyingly potent combination of both this past few months, it's been happening terribly often) and two, it wasn't his phone and he didn't feel like shelling out a few hundred rubles to get the other Yuuri a new one when he inevitably broke it. "Don't they realize that if you kept skating till this age you'd probably break a hip out there?" 

"I'm sure they're just very excited." Yuuri tried to downplay as he sifted through the various papers on the kitchen table. After many years of knowing Phichit, Yuuri was sure that the retired Thai skater was a hundred percent serious about coming to Russia and celebrating the official start of their adoption process and getting incorporated into the system. 

At the moment, he and Viktor were busily checking calendars to get a finalized schedule of the next six months, not wanting to compromise their already delicate situation. Once they got the go-ahead to travel to America and meet the expecting mothers who would hopefully give them their baby, they had to be able to drop everything at a moment's notice. That meant finding coach replacements, re-arranging Yuri's training program, and a hundred different other things that Viktor and Yuuri did during their free time in the day. 

Ryoutan was a sleeping pile of brown fluff by Viktor's feet. Said man was unhelpfully leafing through the Russian baby book whose cover he'd taken a picture of, humming something that sounded like the [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAECOPvMaPw) to Yuuri's most popular free skate (the one that got him his third gold medal) under his breath. The tune was a lovely bittersweet thing that had went well with Yuuri's theme; understanding. That... had been a rough year for all of them. Viktor had decided to officially retire, not by choice but by demand, after a heart-stopping injury on the ice. 

Nobody had slept easily for at least six months, wondering when Viktor would resurface from the depressed state he'd sunken into. 

Yuri propped his chin on a palm, blinking away the memories of Viktor and Yuuri fighting endlessly and just reminding himself that that was in the past. One of his braids fell to rest on his shoulder as he slumped on the kitchen table and he cleared his throat to say, "When and where are we hosting this celebratory party?" 

"I was thinking the rink." Yuuri looked up from where he was jotting down a small note, his glasses falling down his nose slightly and Viktor reached out a hand and pushed it back up for him. A sick, disgusting, lovey-dovey habit that had had Yuri groaning into his hands out of habit. Those two... just couldn't stop. "I'm sure that everyone must miss skating together now that we don't see each other every year anymore and we can just bring food there. Yakov wouldn't mind?" 

"He didn't mind when we did it for my birthday." Viktor said, tapping his chin with a long finger before he nodded, decision made. "I'll handle him." 

Yuuri did not doubt him and his methods, finalizing the rest of his details. "Do you think they can all make it here next month? Is that too soon?" 

"Aren't JJ and that awful woman on a cruise somewhere?" Yuri asked because he'd seen a post on SNS just the other day. He followed all his fellow skaters out of obligation, and maybe yes, a sense of camaraderie. He was only truly friends with some of them. He and JJ were on better terms now since he was the same age as Otabek. The two often found themselves skating against each other during preliminaries and whenever Yuri went to support his friend, JJ would be there egging him on. If JJ hadn't been there to add fuel to the fire that burned in Yuri (one that had all but been doused when both Viktor and the other Yuuri got taken out of the picture) he wouldn't have delivered as well as he thought he was capable of.

"I'll send him a message." Yuuri mumbled then flipped through a few more things. He chewed on his pencil for a minute, his brown eyes just reading whatever it was that needed his attention.

Yuri looked away from his phone to appreciate the moment for just a second. When Viktor and Yuuri moved to America, he wouldn't have this anymore.  _This._ Sitting here in the Nikiforov-Katsuki household, planning the nth party that would bring together some of figure skating's most memorable people. It meant hours spent thinking of where to hold the party ( _"Viktor, maybe we can do something that won't involve a rink?"_ ), what to serve ( _"Sara turned the color of Mila's hair last year because we served shrimp in the main course. She's allergic to seafood, apparently._ "), when to host it ( _"Sucks to have to cancel six return tickets to Switzerland, huh?_ "), what music to put on (" _We are not fucking playing Theme of King JJ!_ ") and it's become a part of his routine that Yuri wondered if he could live with losing it. 

He seemed to be losing a _lot_ of things lately. 

"Yurio." A hand on his shoulder startles him, but Viktor does not comment on what was probably a guilty expression on his face, as he stands and leans forward to give his husband a kiss, pulling back with a heart-shaped smile on his lips. "Let's go check the usual caterer and make reservations, da?" 

Yuri took a moment to shake whatever mood it was he had just been about to have and nodded, waving at the other Yuuri and making for the front door where his jacket and coat hung in the foyer. He slipped into it, taking his time to give the married couple a moment to say goodbye, which didn't necessarily take long on a good day. Viktor joined him soon enough, shrugging on his own coat and calling out, "We'll be back with a platter of whatever it is they have there  _luchik_!" before they were both out the door and into Viktor's car.

"What do you want for a menu this year, Yuri?" Viktor asked him as they made the half-hour long trip. "We had a lot of Russian food the last time. Maybe we can challenge Natalia to make something really odd for her? What do you think?" 

"Sure, if you wanna end up with a meat cleaver in your chest." Yuri snorted as he leaned against the car door, something the other Yuuri would have scolded him for, but he wasn't here to do that so _ha._ "Just order a couple of the specials. If the other guys don't like it, let them starve. They're the ones demanding a party." 

"But it's not just any party, Yuri! It's a celebration!" Viktor tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, it was still the same song. Yuuri's song.

"Why?" Yuri asked.

Viktor glanced at him, quickly looking back at the road, his humming put on pause. "Why what?"

"Why is that song stuck in your head?" Yuri thought hard on what to say next, not wanting to trigger something that could be easily avoided if he wasn't careless. "Are you not happy?"

"I'm ecstatic." Viktor promised, though his voice was more sober. "I'm just... in the mood to listen to it, I guess. I didn't even think you'd recognize it."

 _'Of course I do.'_ was what Yuri wanted to say, instead he licked his lips and changed the subject. "When exactly next month do you plan everyone to come over?" 

"Christmas, probably." Viktor said as he slowed down at a stop light. "They'll be flying all over the place for the holidays anyways, why not spend it in Russia? There's enough snow to build a snowman any time of the year, Michele will be thrilled." 

"Yeah." Yuri grinned. "I bet you time off the ice that he's gonna use all the snow to whack Emil in the face." 

"It's practically tradition." Viktor chuckled then made a questioning sound. "You bet time  _off_ the ice? That's very odd for you Yurachka, is something the matter?" 

Yuri flushed and turned away from the older Russian, hiding deep into the collar of his coat. "No." 

Viktor persisted. "That did not work when you were twelve, Yuri. It will not work now." 

"I'm fine."

"You are not." 

"I really fucking am."

"No, you are not." Viktor's gaze narrowed on him, his grip on the stirring wheel growing noticeably tighter. 

Yuri sighed exasperatedly, ready to all but go into a tantrum (yes he could still do that) when the car jerked to a stop and all but threw him against the dashboard had he not been properly belted in. He gaped at Viktor, his heart thundering in his chest, one hand rushing to pat at it, willing it calm down. To Viktor, he nearly yelled, "What the hell?!"

"Talk." The older Russian said simply. 

"Are you serious?" Yuri gestured around them with rushed movements, though one hand remained on his chest where his heart was still beating a mile a minute. "We are on the fucking free way? You can't just stop here!"

"I can and I have." Viktor cocked an eyebrow at him, casually examining his nails as he leaned back into his seat as if he had all the time in the world. 

Yuri made a strangled noise and glanced outside his window. "I'm pretty sure we passed a _police car_ not two minutes ago, Vitya." 

"Yuuri can come and bail us out, Yura." Viktor promised him, smiling. "This car is not moving an inch until you start talking. There is something bothering you and you need to talk about this. I would not push if I did not think necessary. It is something loving Yuuri has taught me." 

There was a moment of silence, Yuri knew that Viktor would make good on his threat and keep them there until midnight if he had to. And he had... a slight point. The blond let out a puff of breath that nearly had him choking as he ran a hand over his face. "Just... drive. I'll talk to you when I'm... ready, okay? But not... now." 

Viktor gave him a steady look. "Promise me." 

"Da, yes. I promise." Yuri said with much feeling. "Now fucking drive." 

The wheels on Viktor's car started rolling again and they made it to Natalia's main office for business without anymore talk on Yuri and his supposed issues. Viktor had kept humming that song. It kept Yuri's nerves on edge as he thought of a hundred dozen things all at the same time. Like, how he still didn't know how Viktor could bear to think, let alone sing, the song that the whole world had played when he had had to go through six months of absolute hell. He thought of how the fear of being left alone again was rearing its ugly head like fucking Sadako crawling out of a TV (thanks a lot _katsudon_ ). He thought about how that was ridiculous because he  _wasn't_ alone. Not anymore. Not since then.

He would always have Viktor and Yuuri. He had Lilia and Yakov. He had his grandfather and his sister. He had Beka. 

Or did he? 

For months going on now, Beka and Mila had been spending a lot more time together. Which was fucking fine. Yuri did not have to have the Kazakh's time and attention 24/7. And it wasn't odd. Since Yakov had so many students under his belt, he had to work on a schedule that benefited every single one. That meant putting them in groups that would prove to be the least distracting. Mila and Otabek were the same age, they almost always chose the same styles of skating; very fine and very traditional. It made sense that they would spend time together. It made absolute fucking sense.

And yet Yuri couldn't make sense of anything at all. 

Viktor was kind enough to leave him in his thoughts as they entered the premises, taking over all the talking and smiling and wooing as they were lead straight into the kitchen. 

"I knew you'd be coming." Natalia deadpanned when she saw them. Her white-streaked black hair was pulled away from her face, stuffed in a hairnet. She was baking, her entire front half covered in flour, her hands paler than usual as they beat mercilessly on dough with a strength that did not fit a woman her age.

"Yes," Viktor smiled. "Christmas dinner without your food would be unusual!" 

"I'm booked full for Christmas." Natalia slapped some cling-film over the dough and began to work around her visitors, ignoring them completely even as Viktor then proceeded to tell her all about how her meals were much awaited and they had people coming over, they couldn't very well disappoint them right?  _Right?!_

"It's also my birthday!" Viktor reminded her, as if she needed reminding. 

Natalia slipped a tray of something into an oven and close the door shut before she snapped to one of her chefs. "Ivan! Get this idiot a menu. Honestly, you know we have a two month reservation period." 

"Da, da I'll remember for next time." Viktor promised, an empty promise, as he accepted the booklet he was handed and idly leafed through it. He closed it almost just as quickly before rattling out what he and Yuuri wanted, making specific notes on certain dishes to avoid further complications due to availability and the season.

Natalia took this all in stride, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper, scribbling notes as Viktor rattled on. She was quiet as they did this, but her eyes were trained on Yuri, making the blond uncomfortable. She cut Viktor off as he went on a slight tirade on what Natalia and her crew had done wrong with the tray of Japanese desserts they'd ordered the last time. "Why are you so quiet? You're usually begging for something to eat right about now."

"He's going through some things." Viktor answered offhandedly.

Yuri almost felt like biting him, he settled for stomping on his feet as he shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders, or trying to. They were too stiff. "You don't have anything out."

Natalia scoffed, though there was a slight smile on her face where one of her chefs brought out a tray of freshly baked-

"Pirozhki!" Yuri reached out for one immediately, feeling incredibly better. Natalia made pirozhki for him every year, Viktor and Yuuri never forgot to add it to the menu. They were nearly up there with his Grandpa's very own creations. 

Viktor was nibbling on one just as quickly, beaming at Natalia. "You were ready for us!" 

"I always am." Natalia returned to her pad of paper. "What else do you want modified, Vitya?" 

Yuri tuned them out, focusing on his chewing. This... this was familiar. This he could deal with.

* * *

When Yuri made it back to his apartment, he was dead tired on his feet. The pirozhki had been a nice surprise but they could only give him so much energy when he was dealing with an excited Viktor. Natalia, bless her heart, had actually smiled when Viktor announced that not only were they celebrating his birthday but also the good news; they were about to become parents!

The entire kitchen had nearly busted out as they scurried to prepare  _something_ for Viktor to take home for Yuuri, who Natalia was even more fond of. That was how Yuri ended up coming home with bags of food (mostly Japanese dishes) only to end up nearly dropping them all as he passed the living room on the way to the kitchen. 

"Yuri!" Mila saw him first, her blue eyes lighting up and a wide smile on her face. "We were wondering when you'd get home! Come join us, we're about to watch a documentary on lions." 

On any normal day, Yuri would have agreed to that request because for one thing, he loved lions. Lions ruled. And for another, it wasn't like he would have anything better to do and Mila was his friend.

Only... Mila was here, with Otabek. They were watching something together, sitting close to each other on a couch that looked to small for them. Otabek had an arm slung over the back of the couch, inadvertently on Mila's shoulders. The arm did not seem to be anything new to them... but it was terrifyingly foreign to Yuri. Of course they would be used to that... they were after all  _dating_. 

Yuri felt it a little hard to breathe. 

"Yuri." Otabek called out to him this time, leaving the couch and approaching him like one would come to a startled cat. "Are you alright? Let me take some of those." 

The blond let Otabek take the bags of food from him, because damn him if he wasted Natalia's hard work just because he was having a mental breakdown. Which wasn't even making any sense. Why would he freak out like this? It's just...

"Yuri?" Mila was standing now too, pressing a hand over his forehead, her face close as she studied him. "You look really pale." 

Beka and Baba. 

They were his _friends._  

Yuri tried to breath deeply, tried to clear his head. He moved away from that hand, took a step back away from Beka too for good measure. "I'm fine. Vitya tired me out today though so I'm going to go to bed." 

"Ah," Mila gestured to the TV for a second, the remote still in one of her hands. "Don't you want to watch the lions? They could help you relax." 

"No." Yuri made his way to his room, he could not be there with them a second longer. He just  _couldn't_. It was almost painful just to think about it, his shirt getting a little too tight. He tried to catch his breath, hoping he sounded a semblance of normal as he shut the door behind him. He'd also fought not to slam it as hard as he could.

Yuri did not make it far into his room, his back hitting the shut door, his hand crawling up his chest to rest on his madly beating heart.  _Lub-dub, lub-dub, lubdub, lubdub, lubdublubdub_ the sound drummed hard in his ears and for a second he could see white spots pop up in front of him, a rim of black darkness creeping around him. 

It was getting _so fucking hard_ to breathe. 

But it wasn't _impossible._

Yuri took his time, catching his breath as he cleared his mind. Or tried. His thoughts kept going back to Mila and Beka, outside and together. He'd known... he's known for months now that they were d-dating. But he'd never seen them act any different, just more SNS posts of them together, but with distance. They weren't like Viktor and Yuuri. Nothing like them at all.

Except now Yuri had seen them together like this and they looked exactly like every other couple Yuri had the displeasure of knowing.

So what the fuck was the matter with him? 

It was a minute (maybe hours) before Yuri slumped down from where he leaned against the door, sliding to the floor and resting his head on his knees. He hadn't had that kind of episode in years. 

A very loud mewling sound startled him out of his mood, Lev was pawing on his jeans, his tail sweeping on the hardwood floors. 

Yuri felt the bittersweet smile on his lips as he reached out to pull the cat closer, he buried his face into Lev's coat, feeling his throat working up as tears pricked the back of his eyelids. "What the fuck's the matter with me, Lev?" 

Lev began purring, batting at his coat which he hadn't even gotten off in his haste to get away. 

"It's just them. It's just Beka and Baba." Yuri breathed out, tilting sideways and crashing to the floor. "It's just them, so why?" 

Yuri kept Lev close as he laid there, his mind blocking out the fact that he had tears falling down his eyes. He hated it when he got like this, hated that sometimes he sunk so low he couldn't even explain himself. Was it fear? It was fear, wasn't it? Viktor had Yuuri, they were going to get a baby. Beka had Mila, they were dating. Yuri... had no one. He would be alone, again. He would... God.

The urge to get up was practically non-existent. He did not want to move, what was the point? It wouldn't matter to anyone if he stayed there, on the floor, for a couple of days. All he needed... was a couple of days. He would power through this, just as he'd powered through everything else that life had thought to fucking throw at him. He would be stronger, he was a soldier.

 _Beka_. 

Yuri clamped a hand over his mouth to keep the sob as quiet as he could. He wanted Beka, he wanted his friend. He wanted him to come in here and just hold him like he would on any day that Yuri came home tired and just a little bit depressed. There was a reason figure skaters portrayed their programs so well, each choreographed sequence was embellished with their emotions and feelings.

Not Yuri's. His were set to get technical points, to stretch his limits, to break world records. It had been done then out of necessity, done now out of habit. It was something Viktor had been working on with him. Yes, he had passion. Yes, he had motives. But his feelings were deeply buried in a part of him that would not leak out into the spins and jumps that Yakov made him do, would not interfere with the arm movements and leg raises Lila promised him would win him gold.

Otabek was the only thing that broke through Yuri's defenses, why? Because they were friends. Because Beka understood him better than anyone else. Because Beka had seen him when he had been no one, just another one of Yakov's students. And temperamental, rough around the edges as he had been at ten and even more so at fifteen, Beka came to him and asked for his friendship. Asked for his time. Asked for _him_.  

To someone who had nothing to hold onto but the idea of his family suffering if he even came close to failing, that had been  _everything_ to Yuri. 

Many a times through the years, Yuri would lay his head on Otabek's lap and they would stay there on the couch, hours on end just staring at the muted TV as he tried to process what he was feeling, where he was that day. Otabek would say nothing, he was not like Viktor or Yuuri, who bless them tried their best to understand Yuri, and to a certain extent, they  _did_ but also... they didn't.

Yuri wanted to get out of his room and lay on the couch, he wanted Beka to hold him and tell him nothing, just let him lay there and flush all this out. 

Lev made a pointed meow after who knows how long of Yuri laying on the floor of his room. It had gotten dark. Yuri was very familiar with Lev's noises by now, his pet was hungry, but just this once he ignored him. 

The blond did not know how much time had passed when a knock sounded on the door, had he... fallen asleep? 

"Yuri." Otabek knocked again, softly, just checking to see if he was awake, probably. 

' _Beka.'_ Yuri wanted to call him. He wanted him to come inside, hold his hand and just... be with him.

Otabek's voice called out to him again, just his name, a soft question. 

Yuri's eyes closed shut. 

He did not answer. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the angst has begun? Ahuehue I've taken a lot of liberty with Yuri's backstory since we didn't get much from the anime so, secrets to be revealed, I guess? 
> 
> Hope that was worth the read!
> 
> ~~Thank you for all the kudos and comments you guys are awesome~~


	3. Confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: A CHARACTER IS GOING THROUGH A BAD STAGE OF DEPRESSION SO PLEASE DONT READ IF THIS WILL UNSETTLE YOU.

Yuri is left in a state of depressing self-depriving woe and agression. He forgets to eat, forgets to stretch, forgets to clean up after a hard day on the rink. Maybe he doesn't forget, he simply can't be bothered to care anymore. Day after day it's new spins, new combinations, and blades slicing into thick ice. There's nothing graceful or beautiful about his skating. It's raw, hard, with a jagged edge that drives a number of lines into Viktor's forehead as he sees his figurative son fall apart and at the same time, clam up completely. Talking didn't help, introducing Yuri to a punching bag wouldn't help anyone either (JJ had already tried years ago in an effort to curve Yuri's warfreak tendencies).

When Yuri shows up for practice two weeks before the celebratory party, Viktor takes the keys from him and waves them high in the air where Yuri couldn't get them unless he jumped. And right now he didn't have the energy to jump, he didn't have the energy for anything unless it was for the ice, on the ice.

"What the hell?" The younger Russian snapped out.

Viktor poked at his forehead with two fingers before ruffling his blond hair which had been thrown into a careless bun. The strands were shiny, but not in a nice way. Yuri was definitely not taking care of himself properly anymore. What triggered it? What made it go this far? This had to stop. "No training for you today, Yurachka. Let's go home."

Yuri doesn't protest as Viktor wraps an arm around his shoulder, for once complying as he's lead around the front of the rink and into Viktor's car. The drive is short and silent, the atmosphere chilly but... not unwelcome. When they get there Viktor tells him to head on inside while he picked up some things for lunch. Yuri doesn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Viktor's still there, waiting to see that Yuri entered the house for himself. He does so on his own time, not in any hurry as he pulls out his copy of the house key from his skating bag.

The house is quiet, but it isn't empty. There was something about the Katsuki-Nikiforov household that just screamed 'welcome home!' every time he stepped into it. A soft meow greets him when he's toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his coat and scarf. Lev. That's right, Lev's been staying here for some time now. Yuri bends over to pick him up, cradling him close to his chest. His pet purrs and nuzzles into him, his soft fur tickling Yuri's exposed neck. Oh... He's missed him.

"Yurio?" the other Yuuri's voice calls to him from the kitchen. Surprise, surprise, it was Yuuri's favorite place in the world. Maybe it was Yuri's too.

Yuri shuffles towards the other Yuuri, slipping into his house slippers and keeping Lev close. When they make it to the kitchen, Yuuri has his stupid 'Kiss the Cook!' apron on again and has a number of bowls in front of him. His right cheek is covered in flour and he greets him with a smile.

"Where's Viktor?" Yuuri asks in a tone that might be more suited to 'Where's Papa?' as he stirs something thick in a metalic bowl, his arm working overtime as whatever it was fought back with a sticky and thick resilience.

Yuri shrugs his shoulders and hops up onto the unoccupied side of the counter, his clumsily made bun dropping into a sad ponytail, fitting Yuri's equally sad and pathetic state. He doesn't think twice when Yuuri hands him the spatula he'd been stirring with before grabbing a new one from the cabinet. The younger Yuri barely spares it a glance before he shoves the thing into his mouth. Cookie dough. Great, now he'd be sad, angry, and fat. Just great. Lev is asleep on his lap.

"How's your programs coming along? Have you decided on what costumes you'll want?" Yuuri asks him as he continues on baking. He does most of the talking, taking cues from Yuri's nods, grunts, and shrugs. Time passes quickly here, but... not in an overwhelming way. The Japanese Yuuri makes him feel comfortable and warm, whereas before it had always been a feeling of being driven. This Yuuri... the other Yuuri... was so much more stronger than him.

Yuri almost chokes on the spatula as he felt the tell-tale prickling behind his eyelids. Fuck. He shoves his arm against his eyes and leans heavily against the kitchen wall.

"Yurio..." Yuuri's voice calls out to him but he doesn't hear it. It's almost... fuzzy, like having to listen through earplugs, or what he imagined being stuck in a cloud felt like. There's no one forcefully taking his arm  
away though, Yuuri would never do that.

There was a time where if this ever happened in front of anyone else, Yuri would have been mortified and he would have booked it out of there. But this was three years into the now, where they've all been through so much with each other. Yuri doesn't care if Yuuri sees him like this. Yuri doesn't care because he's seen Yuuri be worse. And Viktor. Oh god, Viktor. There's always someone between the three of them who isn't feeling fucking alright and by damn, Yuri wasn't even sure why he felt like he was stuck in his personal hell all alone whereinfact he knew, he honestly knew, that he wasn't. Hasn't really been alone for a really long time.

A soft keening noise leaves his throat, it wakes Lev who stirs in his lap but the kitchen is otherwise silent.

He doesn't hear the doors open or the approaching footsteps, he still has his arm against his eyes so he doesn't see the worried look Yuuri's been giving him, cookies sitting unbaked on the island counter. Viktor is unloading the groceries he's brought with him, pressing a soft kiss to Yuuri's brow before he gently takes Yuri by the waist and off the counter. He can still do that. Yuri is still sometimes no match for him in strength and height. Not when they're off the ice.

Viktor leads him to the bathroom where he takes care of everything. He runs the water and fills the tub then he gently urges Yuri out of his clothes. He's naked and he doesn't care. This has happened before, this has happened to Yuuri, this has happened to Viktor. This has happened to him.

The older Russian doesn't say anything as he leaves the bathroom, door slightly ajar, but he does leave him with a look that said he would be back. A firm, reassuring look.

Yuri stays there until his skin turns clammy, arms wrapped around his legs which he'd brought close to his chest.

When Viktor comes back to check on him, he has a plate of cookies with him. They're slightly burnt around the edges but Yuri raises a wet arm from the tub and takes one anyways. He nibbles on it, his eyes still stinging with tears and crumbs fall into the water. He says, "It's good."

"I know." Viktor tucks into a cookie of his own, sitting on a small stool with his back against the door. "Yuuri forgot to set the timer. He's making your favorites."

"He doesn't have to." Yuri says.

"He wants to." Viktor assures him. "He's been stuck in this house for days, he's hardly left it to even go to the rink."

"Something must be bothering him." Yuri sinks lower into the water. "Do you think he's having second thoughts?"

"On what? The adoption?" Viktor puts the plate of cookies down. They wouldn't be eating those anymore. "I don't really know, I've never gotten used to the way Yuuri thinks. One second I just might feel like I get it, the next second I've got it all wrong."

"You should ask him what's wrong then."

"If I asked you, would you answer?"

Yuri shuts up.

"I think he's really nervous," Viktor says. "This is a child. A life. What if we mess up? What if we end up making it worse for them when we're supposed to make it better?"

"I doubt you'd screw up. You never screw up." Yuri whispers.

"Don't we? Don't I?" Viktor ammends. "I've been a screw up all my life, Yurachka, you and Yakov know better than that. Just because it's not obvious, just because I smile all the time doesn't mean I haven't made my mistakes. You've been there, you've dried Yuuri's tears enough to realize how horrible of a person I can be."

"The world doesn't know."

"The world doesn't care." Viktor corrects. "The world doesn't care what I do or do not do. Because there are a hundred million others out there like me. And there are things more important than what I'm up to in  
my life. This, here."

Yuri flinches when Viktor reaches out to pull one of his hands into his and squeezes tight.

Viktor goes on, "This here, you. Yuuri. Our family. Our lives. This is what matters. Who cares what the world thinks? Your greatest enemy is yourself. I need you to understand that sometimes you get a little too tough, a little too rough and it's not good for you. You've been in this slump long enough, it's time for an intervention. Please, tell me what's wrong."

The younger Russian shakes his head, he's not ready to speak yet. But Viktor's hold on his hand is getting too tight and the bathroom is feeling a little too small. Yuri shakes his head and tries to take his hand away from Viktor's grip.

"Vitya." Yuuri's voice startles him out of his sudden frenzy. He's standing by the door with a huge towel in his hands and he gives Viktor a look, then a small jerk of his head. "Why don't you set the table while I get Yurio dressed?"

Viktor looks at him with obvious frustration before he nods and does as he's told. When he passes, his hand ghosts over Yuuri's arm and they exchange looks. Speaking in the way only they knew how. When he's gone, Yuuri is less cold than he'd first appeared. "Let's get you warm, neh? The water must be cold."

Yuri does not speak but he follows. He allows himself to be manipulated out of the bathroom and into his room. He's sitting on his bed where Yuuri uses another towel to dry his hair. The younger Yuri takes a moment to watch him as he moved. Was this what he felt like often? Was this what it felt like to just... not understand and not want to care anymore? But that wasn't all he was feeling, was he?

"I'm angry."

Yuuri chuckles. "You're always angry."

"This is different." Yuri's eyebrows draw together as he tries, genuinely tries to explain himself. "I'm angry when I shouldn't be. It's... It's... It's unfair, if I kept being angry. So I just stopped... trying."

"Why do you think you shouldn't be angry?" Yuuri tries to draw out but Yuri clams up and shakes his head. Not yet. That was all he was willing to say. Yuuri doesn't push him. "Do you wanna get dressed on your own?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Yuuri leaves him a lingering touch on his head then makes his way out of the room. He sends him a smile, a small one as he leaves.

Yuri finds it a little easier to breathe. He gets dressed, he's comfortable. He brushes his hair out, watching it fall against his shoulders. He feels... better. He makes his way out of the room and into the kitchen where it's just Viktor, lazily stirring a spoon into a bowl of soup. "Where's Yuuri?"

"He's taking a shower." Viktor pulls his chair back and gestures for Yuri to sit.

The younger Russian complies.

"Yurachka," Viktor starts. "Did I ever tell you the story about the boy with the golden hair?"

"This isn't a shitty reindition of Disney's Tangled is it?" Yuri asks, a bit of bite back in his voice.

"Nyet." Viktor chuckles, mood lighter. "I know him personally. It's not just his hair that's unbelievably golden, so is his heart. As fragile as it may be. He hates showing it off, hiding behind a horrible attitude and a lot of shouting. But that's only because he's been living all his life fighting. He's not sure who should see his heart of gold anymore. Not when he's been hurt so many, many times."

Yuri swallows a lump forming in his throat.

"He was only ten when his father died in a car crash, not that it mattered. He had been absent for most of his life. No matter that though, his mother had been affected terribly. She'd... she was never the same. He has a little sister, she's very smart, very bright. Adorable. She looks up to him."

Yuri brings both his palms to stem the returning tears from his eyes. "Damn right she is. But why should she look up to me? I'm not... not even worth anything."

"Yurachka," Viktor sounds pained, impatient, frustrated. "Yurachka you are worth everything."

"Shut up! I'm not!" Yuri slams his hands on the table and glares, suddenly he doesn't feel tired. He feels like he could move mountains, or at the very least, destroy them. "Look at me! Look at me Viktor? Is this soemone worthy of being looked up to? Is this someone you would want to admire? I'm falling apart and I don't even fucking know why!"

Viktor doesn't get a word in.

"I'm not even getting anywhere with my life. No one is around me anymore, everybody else is moving on. You're getting a baby! Let's face it, there's no questioning it, you and the pig were born to be parents. Look at how well you take care of each other. And Yakov is moving forward by taking with him a piece of his past. Lilia is absolutely fucking delighted to be back with him, my legs say so since her practices have become a hundred times harder. And _Beka_!"

His voice catches.

"B-Beka and Mila are dating! They're... they're _dating_."

"You're bothered by this?" Viktor immediately asks.

"Nyet!" Yuri growls. "Da. I don't know."

"Yura..."

"I don't fucking know, okay?" Yuri glares. "Why should I be bothered? It's his life, and he's allowed to find happiness in other people. Mila is great, yeah she can be annoying but they're both my friends for a reason and I- I ... I should be happy for them. And I am. I'm... so fucking happy."

"Perhaps you are feeling left out?"

"Nyet. I just... don't like seeing them together." Yuri raises a hand to rub against his chest. "It... hurts. And I don't know why."

Viktor is silent for a moment. "Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps you feel more than friendship for either of them?"

"What?" Yuri gapes. "No. No, Viktor. I'm not... look at me. I'm nothing special. I'm sure they think so to."

"You can't really speak for others Yurachka, I thought I made that clear." Viktor frowns at him. "And you're very special. You just can't see it, though I wish you could. Perhaps, you see others around you as special as well. Otabek, specifically. Maybe in the way that Yuuri is special to me."

"Nevozmozhno." Yuri snaps. **Impossible.**

Viktor sits up in his seat, "I don't think so. You say it hurts. Perhaps that is the reason why."

Yuri is quiet.

The other Yuuri enters the kitchen, difusing the tense air in the kitchen. "Sorry, I couldn't leave the warm water. Is the food still hot?"

"Da, luchik." Viktor reaches for his hand when he takes his seat and they exchange smiles.

Yuuri looks at Yuri then, reaching his other hand out to take his. "Feeling better?"

Yuri glances up at him. "A bit."

It's not a lie. He feels a little better. Feels a little more alive.

Just a little bit more confused too.

Yuuri beams at him, appreciating the honest answer and they start to eat. The food is good, really good. It makes him feel full and warm, and... more than just a little bit alive. He eats until he feels like he'd have to run for hours to work off the gained weight. And afterwards he sits back against his seat as Viktor and Yuuri clean up. 

He brightens up a little when Yuuri pulls out all the papers he has on planning the celebration. There are still a lot of unfinished tasks. 

"Phichit-kun says he's bringing someone with him this year." Yuuri nibbles on the end of his pencil, a mechanical one with an anime figure on the front. "I can't imagine who it would be. His SNS has been awfully quiet, I didn't know he was with anyone steady." 

"Phichit is perfectly capable of keeping things hush-hush, Yuuri." Viktor tells him. "There'll be enough food for everyone, we could feed half an army if we wanted to. What about hotels?" 

"I need to call a few others, no one has enough rooms available for all of them." Yuuri frowns. "Are we staying at the hotel too?" 

"Is that what you want?" Viktor asks, then glances at Yuri. "Would you rather we stay at the hotel with everyone else, Yurachka?" 

Yuri, who had been comfortable listening to the conversation, could only offer a shrug in reply. 

Yuuri smiles. "I suppose it's more fun when everyone is under the same roof. You've told Yakov to cancel skating practice for the weekend of the party right?" 

"Da, Yuuri. He's coming, don't worry." Viktor pulls his phone out and takes a piece of paper from Yuuri's small pile. "We should do some of those calls now."

Yuri accepts the second phone that Viktor pulls out and another piece of paper with numbers scrawled in Japanese, he huffs and reaches for the other paper that had them written in English numbers. Viktor could read Japanese better than him. He feels even more better now that he's busy doing something else, his mind more preoccupied and less likely to venture into deep thoughts that made no sense and just made him sad.

When he's finished with his calls he feels more like a whole human being again, he has enough drive to check social media. A lot of people have been posting while he'd been temporarily gone. Phichit's feed was void of any pictures of him and his supposed new thing. Maybe he did know how to be subtle. 

Yuri pauses before he could carelessly swipe up, his eyebrows drawing together as he reads the post. 

* * *

 

**Jean Jaques Leroy  posted a new picture on Instagram**

_Here @ Disneyland with the fam! It's JJ STYLE!_

❤ JJGURLS, phichit+chu and **11.047 others**

_View all 370 comments_

**phichit+chu**  We should all go to Disneyland sometime!

 **JJisbae** Is it just me or are JJ's photos lacking something? 

 **K3UJAYJAY** You mean someone?

 **JJSlaebae** @K3UJAYJAY I feel attacked by your username. Is it a tribute to the King or to someone named JayJay? 

* * *

 

Yuri clicks on JJ's profile and browses the photos. 

Where was Isabella?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been updating much of my multi-chaps lately, college is hell. I'm sure you can all relate. 
> 
> I'm slightly worried about the ICness of the characters in this story. I'd like to imagine a lot can change in three years. I've also taken a lot of liberty with Yuri's backstory. I think it's canon that he's the breadwinner of the family, so I incorporated that into the story.
> 
> I hope that no one's triggered by the content of this chapter and it's still a good read!


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